


Lost and Listless

by Emeritusnail



Category: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Genre: Grimdark, Morbid, Mystery, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 20:49:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10601970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emeritusnail/pseuds/Emeritusnail
Summary: After an unknown mare collapses on the streets of Ponyville, malnourished and dehydrated, questions arise after it is found that she has no memory or familiarity with the world around her.The town is quickly unsettled, and none more so affected than the mare herself.  As if awakening from a nightmare, she tries to piece together what she can, even while her own mind struggles against her efforts.Constructive criticism welcome.





	1. Chapter 1

I didn’t remember when it started. Somehow, I would keep seeing him.

There’s a difference of seeing and being seen; our paths would cross. I’d find how, if even for a minute, we would be walking the same way. In a blur of strange, brightly-colored furred bodies, his was a respite. The brown of his coat resembled a normal horse. I’d say nothing, he’d say nothing.

What could have been exchanged? I was a stranger in a strange land, one that seemed the product of a fever dream. The incandescent movements blurred together, as ponies went about their day, coordinated and cordial all the same. Clip-clop, hooves on stone, a foreign sound I quickly adjusted as the new normal. I watched, slower than the rest. While equine faces twisted themselves in open laughter and chatter, I meandered in silence.

Even though Ponyville is a small town, if you take the roads right, they will never end. I practiced my clumsy hoof-steps, over and over, until I knew how to move properly.

I was a pony. Maybe nothing was strange at all, except myself. I could not, and can not, recall anything about my childhood. There were figments of other things, things I quickly assumed were dreams. For some reason I didn’t know my own body. For a while, I would be terrified of it. The things I desired it to do did not make sense. The reactions I’d had to the sensation of swiveling ears, for some reason had made me cry.

I had said “normal horse” right? I don’t know where that phrase came from. Filthy Rich isn’t Saddle-Arabian. Sometimes I still do that, slipping up with nonsense.

I’d wandered in a stupor that many politely ignored. Without the kindness of a few strangers, and a bit of food left here and there, I would have died as I made my slow circuit through days, nights. The points of thought didn’t connect back then. It was still a dream, and the sensations never quite reached me. The damp, cold fur plastered to my skin, dripping with accumulating insects. the noises of concern, starting as whispers but becoming louder - never so loud, when I found myself blinking blearily on my side, unable to move.

I remember purple. Then light. Warmth flooded my body, and my mind - and I realized for the first time - I was present within my own reality. Clarity dawned as I felt the many hooves weighing me down, smelled the shampoo of their coats, heard the collective whispers and musky breathing. The stone was cold and earthy. When I lifted my gaze, the colors that had seemed so piercing and threatening were now soothing to the eye.

 

I didn’t say anything. I breathed in, and out while I continued to be restrained. I kept flicking my ears, troubled by the itching.

There was something about a spell. About how this could happen sometimes, a pony wasn’t fully freed from the dream realm after waking up. The voice spoke gently, educated and yet filled with sympathy. It wasn’t a common, or contagious problem. Everypony was fine. Can you tell me who - oh. That was a question.

I'd tried to say something, but my voice was barely more than a croak. 

“Oh.” The softness of her disappointment alarmed me. I looked up. Was that bad? But she misunderstood me. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll remember soon.”

Okay.

“I feel itchy,” I’d try to say. Despite what was probably incoherent - immediately my throat burned and I started coughing - she knew what I was trying to say. Or had a guess.

“You had to be shaved so that the mange will go away,” She told me softly. “Don’t worry. Ponyville’s hospital will take care of you and make sure your coat grows in fine.”

Coat? Oh, that. Still coughing, I’d given a nod. My eyes felt so sore, and although closing them also caused them to burn, I did.

\-------

I woke up in a white room in a white bed, linked to so many tubes I thought this was another dream. My throat still burned, but for a different reason - the feeding tube was abrasive, the breathing tube also wasn’t nice. I wheezed for a while, taking deep, steady breaths, and grew to be comforted by the sound.

I felt alert, and otherwise unbothered. Cozy. Looking down, I realized I was wearing a sweater. It was a braided, cream thing, heavy on my limbs and very warm.

However, moving was a different story. Every limb was stiff and aching, almost numb from lack of strength. I couldn’t turn my head, and I fumbled with the sheets, trying to find any sort of purchase to turn over. I realized swiftly I was also bound to the bed.

I didn’t have it in me to panic. Maybe I should have. But I laid there, letting my vulnerability wash over me like a cool wave. I waited, idly flexing my hooves, back and forth, kneading the sheets.

Eventually someone came in. I saw the shocked, blue doctor’s expression when he realized I was awake. I fumbled for a little wave. He composed himself, one expression shifting into another as he approached my bedside, smiling carefully.

“How’s our Jane Doe? It’s good to see you’re awake.” 

His forehead glowed. I felt a release as white cords were unfastened and levitated above my head. I stared at them for a moment. My expression must have been funny, because the doctor chuckled, and the cloud of pale magic whisked the things away, under the bed.

“Sorry,” He told me softly. “You were restless, we had to keep you still so that you didn’t hurt yourself. Weeks of walking around town must have ingrained a habit! But don’t you worry, since you’ve come in your have definitely been improving.”

I try to make a sound, but all I can do is gurgle.

He nodded. “We’ll get those things out now that you’re conscious. The biggest hurdle is over, now that your body is well-rested, fed, and hydrated. You might be feeling some muscle weakness and nausea. We’ve had to dose you up with antibiotics and vaccines to make up for your lack of medical records. With the state you were in, we did not want to take any chances.” He grinned and laughed again.

The doctor turned out to be Lifeline, and he called in Redheart, his nurse, to assist him in removing the tubes. As the plastic slid out, I struggled not to cough as I felt a tickle deep within my chest - fortunately, where my throat didn’t burn from dryness, it was completely numb, and again all I could do was sound like a baby.

I knit my brows and try to speak anyway. I wind up blowing a spit bubble when my mouth didn’t cooperate.

“That enchantment will fade in several hours,” Lifeline said to my plaintive grunting. “It’s harmless and just made it easier to keep the tubes in you without any reactions.” He grinned even wider, eyes crinkling.

“Line, don’t laugh at her,” Redheart scolded, her voice tired and gentle.

“I’m not,” Lifeline retorted. “I’m simply pleased by her development.”

Redheart rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t mean you should make that face while she’s struggling. It’s demeaning.”

“I was not.”

The white mare gave a little snort, and smiled in my direction. “Don’t worry, he really does take his patients seriously. He just doesn’t understand the way he looks sometimes.”

The doctor frowned lightly, walking now around to the foot of my bed, apparently to leave. “What’s wrong with my face?”

“Everything,” Redheart laughed.

Lifeline’s ears folded. “Well with that, I won’t save you the last piece of pie in the fridge.”

“You won’t have to, I already ate it.” She grinned.

Lifeline tossed his head in amusement, smirking before using his magic to adjust his glasses. “For shame, Redheart.” He looked at me. “I’ll return later to see how you’re doing. Redheart here will be staying to change out your bedpan and deliver more Get-Well cards.”

Cards?

I laid back with the barest nod, not wanting to see how my toilet-business looked and smelled. A pang of emptiness hit me, I didn’t know what it meant other than that I felt used to relinquishing power to others. It was sobering to realize I had emotions with no story, associations with little background. My existence was more than perceiving things and engaging in conversation. As a pony, I had come from somewhere. I had been, and I had gone. There was an untouched, unknown tome about my life - and of which, I could remember little.

Time passed. I let my body be manipulated to be moved and washed on the doctors’ schedule, and pretended the enchantments lingered longer than they should. No one asked me questions until my third day of being awake, when a sea of cards surrounded me from well-wishers in the little town.

Turns out, I had been walking around for a month out there before I collapsed. No one had known what to make of me, only that I became a fixture in their routines that had steadily worried them more and more. Out of privacy, and also from lack of response, they hadn’t intervened except to offer bits of food and drink. And now, a number of them felt guilty.

I pulled together the facts from the cards and scraps of paper that were sent. It was all too surreal that anyone would have cared about me. 

I was staring at a bad crayon drawing when the doctor and nurse entered in tandem. After I had first woken up, they had divided their schedule so only one visited at a time. It was probably because, as Redheart told me, everypony was relieved I had made it through the critical stage of my recovery. Now, they looked in concern, both at each other and at me.

“Now, you’ve been here for several weeks. For three of those, you haven't spoken,” The doctor began gently. “The Nurse and I have both noticed your fixation on the cards, and the decline in your mood. We would like to help you. If you remember anything about your identity - anything at all- we would like to know so that we can give you the care you need. Do you remember your name, or your family?”

I think about this, long and hard. Debating, wondering what qualified as a “memory”. Sometimes, throughout the day, I would hit deja vu, or feel like I was catching a glimpse of something in my mind’s eye, just out of reach. So much would escape me, things familiar with no name, tangents clipped off and muted, without any sound. Loss. Always loss.

It bothered me that I’d had to relearn my own body, how to walk, chew, and hold things. I didn’t ask questions, didn’t know after all, what I was doing wrong until someone -somepony-reacted.

I shook my head.

“Canterlot,” The doctor began. “ Manehatten, Cloudsdale, Trottingham, Appleloosa - do any of these places sound familiar?”

I took a moment to run them over in my mind. Nothing comes to mind except manes, clouds, hooves, and apples. I shook my head again when they perk their ears, maybe expecting me to say something.

The nurse seemed terrified. She turned to whisper to the doctor in hushed tones, and after a quiet conversation between them, and a bit of patting, Lifeline smiled at me. It looked a little strained.

“Good to know, good to know,” He said. “I won’t lie, that is a bit...Concerning, but we have several professionals who have expressed interest in your case, so expect to meet new ponies soon.”

I nodded, and with hopeful, pained looks they departed. I frowned, realizing I was alone, wondering if my sense of loss was spreading. They were tense, worried now. And although they continued to persevere, they were hurting themselves over me. What if I never remembered anything?

I started daydreaming, wondering if I had an identity, what that would be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mystery mare takes a bath and feels guilty.

I leaned against Nurse Redheart as we walked to the shower, my legs wobbling but, for the first time since I arrived, remaining upright. I did not often leave my bed. It embarrassed me to no end that along with everything else, something as basic as walking had been lost from my memory. We’d practiced several times the first day this was discovered, not long after the tubes had been removed and I’d been trusted to eat and drink on my own. 

She’d shown me where the bathroom was, and I’d just collapsed in a heap. For some reason, four legs had felt like too many. After checking to make sure I was alright, the nurse had been kind to help me up and show me with the patience of a mother, how the leg motions were done. 

I’d still needed help with balance, so I was given a bell in case I ever needed an escort. But after that discovery, I tried to hold it as much as possible. So it was only maybe twice a day usually that I needed somepony to walk me.

We were still cordial; her with her kind little nothings, me with my smiles and nods. But that evening we were bathed in an atmosphere of silence as she helped me reach the toilet, and then from there to the tub. It was clear I was not a normal patient at this point, and it started to alienate her. 

She must have had the hopes that I’d rejoin my family soon, that I could settle down and put this behind me. Sometimes she’d talk at me, wondering cheerfully how my mother had washed my mane, what shampoos I was used to. I had striking looks for a mare; a muzzle that was almost boyish, she told me one day. My family must have been special. 

We settled into a routine that went on for two weeks at that point, since I’d woken up. I sat on the cold tile and looked in the mirror while Nurse Redheart ran my bath, careful to have the water hot but not scalding. She’d lead me carefully in, holding my hooves while I balanced against her soft body. Before I settled in, I raised my hooves so that she could take off the sweater, and put it in a bin for cleaning. There was always another sweater waiting when I was done. Donated, I think.

I sighed softly to myself, ears drooping in pleasure as I settled into the steaming water. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see her sadness while I took a rag and the soap, and started to wash my face and neck. Sometimes she would use a file to help me with my horn. I think it troubled her that I had one, and didn’t use it. Today though, I felt her kneading soap into my hair and back, something heavy and minty that immediately made me feel refreshed as I inhaled it.

“I thought you’d like this,” Redheart laughed softly. I must have been smiling. Unwiling to open my eyes, I swivel one ear to face her. She had my attention. I heard a little hum of delight - but she said nothing more.

In the tub, I waited patiently for those hooves in my mane to complete their mission. I had done something wrong, I knew - the silence was a deafening reminder that I had overstayed my welcome, that I, the pony, was inches from bringing an oblivion of sadness into the Ponyville General Hospital if I didn’t show some sign of recovery. 

I considered the facts I had found out about myself. I had boyish-looks, and I was a unicorn. My fur, mane, and tail were growing in, and I saw that it was a cream color, with white markings on my nose and hooves. My mane, while bristly, appeared to be either cerulean or teal, I couldn’t tell. My eyes were blue. I was scrawny, but no longer underweight. Just small, and packed with wiry muscle. I was also a mare, which was something to keep in mind as well, if I was going to give myself a name. I wondered how old I was. I wasn’t a foal, that was for sure. Or a filly. But mare covered a wide range of ages…

My thoughts trailed to the names on the cards. While they had stopped a while ago, I’d saved all of them in a tote bag the doctor had given me. There were a few letters as well. One was from a Pinkie Pie, another was from a Twilight Sparkle. But I had a drawing from a filly named Dinky I liked. There was also cards from Roseluck, Lily, the Cake-family, Holly Go-Lightly, Brights Brightly, Minty, and so many others I’d yet to memorize and had actually stopped looking at, because thinking about the ponies I had affected, who knew I was here and were probably all just as disappointed in me - I had developed an aversion to thinking about all that, the ripples in the stream.

But there was Nurse Redheart, with a pink mane and a red heart imposed over a medical cross. There was Doctor Lifeline, who had a green heart-monitor for a cutie-mark. I didn’t have a cutiemark myself, but there was apparently a trend for names to suit identities. Maybe it was on purpose, maybe it wasn’t.

I thought about my colors, and if they were themselves a hint at my true self. Greens made me think of life and energy, vibrancy. Creams were mellow and earthy. Maybe I was named after a plant, then?

Abruptly, a splash of water sent me off tangent. I sputtered and opened my eyes, only to have my face smothered with a towel, and then my mane. Somewhere, a drain was pulled, and the water was sent away. I blinked at the nurse, who had taken another towel, and with a small smile, began rubbing my back. 

“There, there,” She told me soothingly. “I’m sorry for surprising you, you must have been thinking hard about something, but we’re done now.” A thought occurred to her, and her ears perked. “Did you remember something, Jane?”

I worked my tongue over my mouth, and around my teeth. This was it. I’d had something, didn’t I?” My heart raced. I opened my lips. 

“Name,” I whispered. Plant, plant, plant, plant! “Harvest.”

Redheart stared at me. This might have been the first time I’d spoken. She smiled. “Oh, did you want to send Golden Harvest a letter?”

Oh. That’s where that name had come from. I gave a quiet nod. Might as well.

Redheart seemed more cheerful than before, hugging me after she had pulled me out of the tub. “Now, don’t be shy,” She said. “This is progress. We all take babysteps to get to where we have to be.”

A sigh escaped me while she helped me dry off.

“I would be happy to get you a pen and paper,” Redheart continued. “But, tomorrow you’re going to be allowed visitors, and there are several ponies who want to talk to you.”

My expression might have been enough for her to respond, giving me a gentle nudge with her hoof. 

“Don’t worry,” She said. “You don’t have to present yourself in any way other than as you are. Just be honest with them as you’ve been with us. They’re just ponies who want your best interests at heart.”

I wondered what those interests were, since they didn’t know me, but then Redheart said something else. “I heard they’re going to be using telepathy spells, so you don’t have to stress over being misunderstood. You won’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

I found myself grinning, and the nurse was happy to return the gesture as she led me to bed. I was given another sweater. This one was grey and had a cat’s face stitched on the front. I liked it immediately.

Dusk glimmered through the windows, casting the room into gentle shadows, as the final splashes of daylight faded in orange and pinks on the horizon.I sighed as I crawled into bed, once again ignoring Redheart’s suggestion to mingle with other patients. I think she knew why I didn’t want to see anypony, and it wasn’t much of an issue. While we were in the bathroom, somepony must have come in and changed the sheets. They smelled like detergent.

The nurse waved and smiled, before turning out the light. I enjoyed going to bed early, if only so that I had time to think whenever I woke up in the middle of the night. I took practiced, deep breaths as I wiggled into the sheets and got comfortable. 

I hoped there would be answers. In the absence of anypony around, the sense of loss bloomed within me, leaving me to think and consider my life so far. Sometimes this was effective, but more often than not it was tiring, and aided in my sleep.


End file.
